Realize
by Lawson227
Summary: A wee one-shot follow up to MOMENTS. Yes, it's an unconventional 'ship. Yes, this is "fiction." As it all is.


_**Realize**_

**AN: **A follow up to _Moments_. As usual, don't own anything of _**psych **_just playing a wee bit. Yes, it's an unconventional 'ship. Yes, this is "fiction." As it _all_ is.

* * *

She didn't realize how integral their stolen moments had become until the moment he failed to show.

As always he had met her gaze—as always, had given nothing away. He couldn't afford to. Bad enough she had fallen in the habit of making her summons in such a public fashion. Passing his desk, meeting his gaze, silently imploring when it would have been just as easy and certainly far more discreet to simply text. Or even set a time.

But to do so would involve a measure of acknowledgment she wasn't certain either of them was ready for. Their tacit agreement had served thus far and in those quiet stretches of time when she allowed herself to think beyond the moment—usually late at night, in the dark—she wondered if it wasn't because it preserved their sanctity. Relieved them of the burden of pressure to talk.

To question the wisdom of what they were doing.

To question _what_ they were doing.

Too many questions and uncertainties and to air them would allow doubt to enter into their protected little bubble. Would no doubt bring their moments to an end.

That was the only thing of which she was certain.

They couldn't end.

Then he didn't show—on a day when she desperately needed him—and the questions began chipping away at the glass beneath which they'd hidden these many months.

The next day, he once again failed to respond to her request.

And the questions died down to only one.

The only one.

_Why?_

It was on the third day—furious with him, furious with herself, furious with the desperate need driving her to pass by his desk, yet again—that she finally realized why.

He was angry.

He glanced up from his desk as she paused, his expression as shuttered as ever but for one searing, heart-stopping second where the defenses fell away and the anger—and more—was revealed.

She should have known.

Especially after that first day, where he didn't come to her, she should have understood.

She, of all people, should have _known_.

What she did know—from that one, unguarded second—was for the first time _she_ would have to go to him.

He wouldn't make it easy for her. The depths of his anger would prevent that.

Which prompted the second real question she'd seriously entertained since they began this… whatever it was.

How far was she willing to go?

The answer came remarkably easily and harkened back to her only certainty.

Their moments couldn't come to an end.

Unashamedly grateful it was a Friday—unashamedly grateful to be on her own—she was able to act on the impulse before thought and rationale could take over.

Before fear could surface and drive her to retreat and hope that in time, his anger would abate.

It was too fragile a hope on which to pin so much.

He opened the door—unsmiling, unsurprised, fully unmasked and undeniably angry.

She stepped through, pausing only to close the door on the outside world, took him in her arms and held him.

For the longest time, that was all she did. Nothing more than hold him. It didn't even matter that he merely stood there, arms at his sides, posture tense, each breath shallow and fast. She simply held him close, slowly rubbing her palms along the long, rigid planes of his back in long, soothing strokes. Ever so gradually, his body warmed, his muscles losing tension and growing pliant beneath her touch. Even more gradually, his arms rose to gather her close, his head lowering over hers, his breathing deepening with each passing moment.

"You were scared."

Stubborn silence dominated as a hint of tension returned, stiffening his back beneath her palms.

"I was, too."

Continued silence although his body relaxed in tiny increments, soothed by her ongoing caresses.

"I had to, Carlton."

Muscles jerked beneath her palms, a slight hitch interrupting his otherwise steady breathing.

"I know."

"But you were still angry."

"The thought of losing you…" His gaze remained downcast, hiding his eyes, but for once, she didn't need to look into them.

"You didn't come because you thought it might be goodbye?"

Slowly, his head lifted, his gaze meeting hers, the heart-wrenching blue rendering words superfluous.

Just as slowly, she shook her head. "Not goodbye."

His eyes drifted shut as the last of the anger and fear drained from his body, leaving him warm and flush against her.

Mouth resting lightly on hers he sighed.

"Welcome home, Karen."

* * *

**Author's note: **This was left intentionally vague as to circumstance. For one, it fit with the theme of _Moments_; additionally I wanted to allow you, the reader, to fill in the blanks for yourself. Think of it as a sort of Choose Your Own Adventure.


End file.
